


Floral

by Demenior



Series: Skirts and Superheroes [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Genderqueer Character, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Slice of Life, implied past relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 08:36:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1462819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demenior/pseuds/Demenior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Bucky end up shopping. Bucky knows what he wants- maybe not why- and while Steve doesn't understand he can't help but indulge.</p><p>[Bucky buys a skirt for himself and Steve isn't sure how to respond to changes]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Floral

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt from Kaza999 on Tumblr, who drew me a picture of Bucky with a messy hair bun and as such was allowed to prompt anything from me.
> 
> The prompt was: "i really wanna see genderqueer bucky? steve/genderqueer bucky would be super awesome. long hair is a must."
> 
> This wasn't as relationship-heavy as I intended, but I hope it's what you're looking for!  
> \----
> 
> Also note I assumed that as men of the past, neither of them know any of the modern language surrounding gender/queer identities.
> 
> Unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine.

They’re walking down the street, Bucky along the windows so that Steve is closer to the people they pass, when Bucky stops and grabs Steve by the arm,

“I like that,” he says.

The arm alone would have been enough to make Steve stop in his tracks—Bucky wasn’t one to initiate contact, as much as he was starved for it—but the words nearly floored him. Bucky rarely talked, a vast difference to who he used to be. He was a silent figure in Steve’s apartment, a dark wraith that was always at Steve’s side.

Steve was so shocked by Bucky talking—even just voicing an opinion—that he didn’t even think to look at what Bucky was pointing at. Bucky was looking at him expectantly.

Steve finally glanced up, at the boutique they’re stopped in front of. It looks plain and white inside, with splashes of colour from all of the clothing, and thin mannequins posed in the windows.

It’s not a men’s clothing store.

“You like…” Steve cranes his neck to glance at the store just before the boutique—maybe that’s what Bucky was referring to, “the cupcakes?”

Steve doesn’t miss the way Bucky drops his arm like he’s been defeated. He might have just been realizing he’s been touching Steve for too long, but his faces closes off like he’s going somewhere else.

This walk was about getting Bucky more exposure—more used to being around civilians. Steve wants him in the present.

“Okay, show me,” Steve says, and opens the door to the boutique. He has to wait a minute for Bucky to understand what he’s saying.

“Never mind,” Bucky shakes his head, and makes to move past Steve and continue walking.

This is one of the longest conversations they’ve had in a while, and Steve isn’t going to let that go.

“Come on,” he takes Bucky by the arm and guides him in.

The girl on staff is a slight thing with a nose piercing and razor straight hair, and a name tag that says Patricia. She smiles widely at them as they walk in, but doesn’t move from behind the till where Steve can see she’s got an open magazine.

“Hello is there anything I can help you with today?” she asks.

“Uhh,” Steve glances at Bucky, who is standing right where Steve left him and not being very helpful, “no, no. Just looking.”

“You’re aware we only carry women’s clothing, right?” she asks. She leans over a bit as if she’s trying to get a better look at Steve.

Steve nods, turning away so she can’t recognize him, “Yeah, no problem. Thank you.”

He’s wearing a hat and glasses, and his coat has a high enough collar that no one should recognize him unless they get a good look. Bucky’s long hair (no matter how many times Steve tries to convince him to cut it) hangs in his face and mostly obscures his features. He’s dressed in nondescript black, and while neither of them are dressed poorly, there’s a sense that they are very out of place in the boutique.

There are floral patterns, and bright flowers and soft, satiny materials all around them. Steve’s never encountered a dame wearing such things (most women he interacts with are on duty anyways) and he feels the need to be extremely careful about knocking anything over.

“Buck,” he says quietly, “is this what you want?”

Bucky’s staring at the floor now, and there’s a twitch in the corner of his mouth—the mask meant no one could see his face so he didn’t learn how to erase that tell—that means he’s nervous. The look on his face says he might be terrified.

“You said you liked something,” Steve pushes. Why would Bucky want something from here? Was there a girl he fancied? Steve’s gut twists at the thought—but he has to remember that the Bucky he remembers isn’t entirely the same man in front of him.

Steve watches Bucky’s fists clench and unclench and then he strides forwards and touches the hem of one of the skirts on a mannequin in the window. It’s bright and feminine, with a sheer layer that shimmers in the sunlight. Steve can’t think of anyone Bucky knows that would like it.

“Can I?” Bucky asks, so quietly that Steve’s sure the woman reading her magazine can’t hear him.

Steve’s still not sure what Bucky’s asking— _why_ Bucky’s asking—but Steve will do anything for him. He doesn’t understand right now, and later he’ll ask, but he doesn’t want to frighten Bucky away from asking for anything.

“Of course,” Steve nods, “anything you want.”

Bucky could care less about money, and only understands it abstractly. He’s had no need for it in years—even in their Commando days money wasn’t too important for them personally. If they used it, it was all transactions made far away from them and they only reaped the benefits. Steve has more than enough and is willing to spend it however Bucky wants.

Bucky takes his time running his fingers through the materials of the skirts hanging on the racks. Steve rocks on his heels, feeling uncomfortable now that they’re taking so long. He’s still not sure what’s going on, but he hasn’t seen Bucky this interested in anything for a long time,

Bucky selects a skirt and holds it out to Steve to pay. Steve’s always hated buying clothes—was always thankful that Shield would do it for him and then also when Stark introduced him to online shopping—and this is no different.

“Uh, just this, I guess,” he says, keeping his head down. He doesn’t want to think about how strange they must look, two men buying a skirt and how neither of them make eye contact.

She doesn’t move to ring it up, and Steve really doesn’t want to have to fight with someone right now.

“Is something wrong?” he finally asks, looking up.

She’s frowning, and glancing between the skirt and Bucky. Steve moves between her line of sight and Bucky standing behind him.

She jumps, as if she’d forgotten he was there, “This isn’t going to fit,” she says, and moves out from behind the counter.

“What?” Steve isn’t sure how to be on the offensive here, but he’s ready to take off his disguise any minute and pull rank if he needs to.

“This is for you, right?” she asked Bucky. He goes stone-faced at being addressed, and she nods understandingly, “this size is too small—I’m pretty sure at least. Do you know your dress size?”

Steve’s brain has stopped working and Bucky slowly shakes his head. Patricia asks Bucky what his waist size is while Steve tries to form a coherent thought. Bucky was buying the skirt for himself?

“Here,” Patricia was saying, “this should work better. And you’re sure you don’t want to try it on?”

Bucky mutely shook his head, and Patricia made her way back to the counter.

“Is there anything else I can do for you today?” she asks, ringing the skirt in.

Steve fumbles with his wallet. Why was Bucky buying a skirt? Why did Bucky need a skirt?

“Our return policy is 30 days—try to keep the receipt and tags on. If it doesn’t fit come right back and I can help, but I hope this works! Have a nice day!” She waves them off and goes back to reading her magazine by the time they walk out the door.

 

Steve doesn’t know what to say—or even how to say it—and so they walk home in silence. Bucky’s head was up the whole time, and even when they crossed the street through a crowd of people heading in the other direction, Bucky took care to try and move out of the way rather than knock shoulders. He didn’t even fall into Steve’s shadow and walked beside Steve the entire way.

Bucky heads right for the bathroom, clutching the bag with the skirt in it tightly, while Steve takes off his coat. He doesn’t know how to have this conversation, or even what conversation he’s supposed to be having.

Even before the ice, before the fall, neither of them had expressed any interest in cross-dressing. It was something that other people did, people more deviant than the two of them. (Though, to be fair, they got up to quite a bit of deviancy themselves). Steve wasn’t sure where this was coming from. Was it Russian in origin? Having his mind wiped so many times had fundamentally changed who Bucky was?

The door to the bathroom opened, and Bucky stepped out. He was still wearing his black hoodie and his boots, which he’d neglected to take off in his haste to try on the skirt. He’d pulled his hair back into a messy bun. There were strands hanging out everywhere and Natasha would probably be disappointed with it. The skirt seemed so bright and jarring that Steve almost couldn’t look. Bucky’s legs were nothing like a woman’s—he was hard muscle and hair and scars where women were smooth and shapely. The skirt seemed so jarring with the image of Bucky that Steve almost wanted to laugh. He didn’t though.

He’d never seen Bucky look so happy. Not since they were young. It made Steve’s knees weak and he forced himself onto the couch in the living room. Bucky took his time to take off his boots and then followed Steve in.

“I like it,” Bucky admitted, shifting from foot to foot so the material moved over his skin.

“Do you want to be a woman?” Steve blurts out.

Bucky looked surprised.

“Because that’s okay,” Steve says, and he realizes he means it as the words come out of his mouth, “if that’s what makes you happy.” He might not understand, but Bucky is _smiling_.

“No,” Bucky says, “I don’t want to be a woman.”

“Then why the skirt?” Steve gestures awkwardly. He can’t decide if he wants to look at the skirt or at Bucky’s face.

“Because I like it,” Bucky shrugs. He fiddles with one side, rubbing the sheer layer between his fingers, “it’s soft. It feels good.”

“You’ve never wanted to wear stuff like this before,” Steve points out, “so why now?”

Bucky shrugs again, “Maybe I don’t remember all the times I did before. Maybe I just didn’t tell you. But… but I want to wear it now. That’s all I know.”

“That’s not what men normally wear, though,” Steve points out, “if it makes you happy then I’ll buy you more—but I don’t understand.”

Bucky’s weight settles on the balls of his feet, and he stands tall like the soldier he is.

“I’m not really a man,” he growls, “I was a weapon. Forged and used for decades and suddenly I’m learning to be human again. I really don’t give a shit about what _people_ normally do. I’m not people. I’m not the Bucky you knew either. I’m just trying to figure out who I am.”

Steve nods slowly, “I’m sorry—you’re right. It… this is a little different, and sudden for me. But if it makes you happy then I’ll get you all the skirts you want. Hell, if you want dresses or makeup—anything. I’m not wearing any of it, though,” he jokes, and Bucky laughs.

“You’d look ridiculous.”

Bucky picks up the remote and joins Steve on the couch. Watching TV has become a favorite pastime for them, as it helps keep them updated on the world and lets them work on their pop culture references.

Bucky sits down close to Steve, leaning against him briefly so he can sit sideways and curl his legs up onto the couch. He’s more focused on feeling the fabric between his fingers and playing with the different lengths than watching the television.

Steve keeps his arm up on the back of the couch and resists how much he wants to wrap himself around Bucky, like they used to. And how much he’d love to kiss him because he hasn’t seen Bucky this happy in so long. Instead Steve tucks a wayward strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear, and settles in to watch his friend settle into his own skin. Bucky leans into his chest—a surprising amount of contact; today has been full of progress—and sighs contently.

The news is playing, but neither of them are really watching.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [the skirt is the first article of clothing Bucky owns that isn't black]


End file.
